Milk It
by ScarlettWoman710
Summary: "Listen, we don't have to be like we were before," Tate murmured. "We're different now, I get that. It's not going to be all lovey-dovey bullshit. We'll be more like Sid and Nancy than Romeo and Juliet."  Rated M for major smut.


**Author:** ScarlettWoman710

**Title:** Milk It

**Summary:** "Listen, we don't have to be like we were before," he murmured. "We're different now, I get that. It's not going to be all lovey-dovey bullshit. We'll be more like Sid and Nancy than Romeo and Juliet."

**Rating:** M

**Warning(s)/Kinks: **Language, smut, femslash, and lots and lots of blood.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own American Horror Story.

**A/N: **I have written entirely too much fluff lately. ENTIRELY TOO MUCH. I needed to go back to my roots and write some really dark and fucked up Violate, in part because I've been completely inspired by some really stellar dark fics over at the AHS fic exchange over at livejournal as well as **The Walking Reedus**'s insanely delicious dark fics. So here we are.

There are some things that you might not like in this, including both Violet and Tate with other people, but you all know me, I'm a Violate shipper to the core. So if you stick with it I think that you'll be happy with the way it resolves. And just like my other fics, the title comes from a Nirvana song (RIP, Kurt).

And many MANY thanks to my lovely **Ohyellowbird** for beta-ing this for me, it's been so long since I've written Dark! Tate and Dark! Violet I was worried I might have forgotten how.

* * *

><p>He should be in his forties.<p>

He should be a productive member of society, with some stuffed-suit, bullshit-filled job, with a wife and a mortgage and two point five kids.

He should be in a psych ward, wrapped in a straight jacket to prevent him from clawing out his own eyes.

He should be sorry for the things that he's done that have sentenced him to his fate, a perennial teenager with a raging hard on and a lingering obsession for the other blond teenager in the house.

Tate Langdon should be a lot of things. Instead, he is what he's always been - lonely, crazy, and a master manipulator of epic proportions.

All of those thoughts were rolling lazily through his brain as he sat on the roof and watched Violet lay on the grass in the backyard. She was stretched out on a blanket in a bikini swiped from one of the teenage residents in the house, which is currently home to a mother, a father, and two college aged sorority girls. They're cute enough but he hated them for all the obvious reasons - too blond, too bitchy, too fucking plastic, too normal. He could probably fuck them both if he put in the effort but he doesn't really see the point. It wouldn't make him feel any better. It wouldn't be fucking Violet.

His brain had been working overtime, giving him a lifetime's worth of realizations in the past ten years. He sees things now that he didn't before. He's watched how the house has twisted the love of his life and it's given him a new understanding of Violet Harmon. She's far from the innocent little flower she used to be. For one thing, she's hornier. He knows that she's fucked Travis, he's never actually seen them go at it but he knows it just the same. He's watched them come out from behind a closed door looking just a little too happy one time too many.

For another, she's darker. She still loves her parents but she's killed them once, he knows it even if they don't. They were fucking with Vivien's back pressed against a window and Violet popped up behind them and shoved them through the glass. He heard them land with a dull thud in the yard and watched as she turned around, a smirk on her face, and left the room.

He wished that all the changes made him love her less, but the opposite is true. He doesn't just want her now, he _craves_ her. He needs her like he used to need the narcotics that coursed through his system back when he was alive.

It made him want to act like the psycho her father once said he was. He loved her so much that it made him hate her sometimes, just a little.

Which was why he picked up a brick from the chimney and threw it, with perfect accuracy, right at her head.

Her skull made a noise like a balloon popping and caved in. Blood and brain and bone splattered in a circle around where she lay.

Feeling slightly better, he got up and went back into the house.

* * *

><p>He's horny.<p>

It's been over ten years since he's had sex with anyone other than his hand and he's so far beyond desperate it's not even funny. Waiting for forever is a hell of a lot harder on his dick than he thought it would be... literally.

And having a houseful of beautiful women doesn't make things any easier. Between the blond bimbos prancing around in their too tiny mini skirts and Moira pulling out her sexy maid persona to try and seduce the male of the house, Tate spent more time with a hard on than without. He hadn't made any progress with Violet since he saw her decorating that Christmas tree all those years ago, and it was starting to wear on his resolve. So when he saw Hayden, naked and dripping wet in the shower, it pulled all the blood from his brain and circumvented it directly to his dick instead.

He pushed the shower curtain back with a flourish of his arm. She spun around, muttering a dazed "What the fuck?" as she looked for the source of the movement.

"Can I help you?" she asked dryly once she had spotted him. She tried to appear disinterested but she puffed her chest out to him and popped her hip to the side.

The sexy pose wasn't necessary, he was already hard. "I think you probably can," he said seriously, unbuckling his jeans and letting them slide, along with his boxers, down to the tile. He stepped out of the puddle of his clothes and climbed into the tub, resting his ass on the lip.

Hayden grinned and dropped to her knees, resting her hands on top of his thighs. He knew she'd go for it, she'd been hitting on him on and off since Ben buried her under the gazebo. He'd just gotten lonely enough and horny enough to finally do something about it.

Without warning, Hayden's mouth enveloped his dick, all heat and humidity. For the first time, he could see why Ben would have risked his wife and family for her. Tate had only ever gotten three blow jobs in his entire life, two from girls that had both been too high on coke to do anything more than run their tongues up and down his shaft and one from Violet, who had been too nervous to even put forth any real effort. But Hayden? Hayden was practically a professional. She could have taught a master course on the subject, the way she pushed him all the way down her throat until the head of his cock had gone past her tonsils. Her movements were smooth, fluid, and when she reached her hand up between them to play with his balls he moaned and let his eyes flutter closed - but not before he saw a sliver of Violet's reflection in the mirror as she watched him through an inch of open doorway.

His first thought was to push Hayden away, but just as he put his hands on her shoulders she gave a particularly vigorous suck and wiggled her tongue against the smooth underside of his head. He groaned and leaned back, keeping sight of Violet in the mirror. She must not have been able to see his eyes watching her because she wasn't staring back at him. Instead, she was watching Hayden swallow his cock. Her eyes were blazing, not with hate or rage or any of the thousand other expressions he had seen on her face before.

She was _jealous._

She was. He could tell by the set of her brow, the way she worried her lip with her teeth. It was the same look she got when she watched the living girls of the house leave, breeze freely in and out and go off to do other things. She was jealous. Of Hayden. Of the fact that Hayden was blowing him.

He grinned.

Because now, he had finally figured out how to get Violet back.

She couldn't get jealous if she didn't still want him, at least a little bit. That was something to start with. His problem was that this whole time he'd been going about things the wrong way, trying to win her back by playing the lovesick puppy dog, tearfully following her from room to room. Violet was different than the girl that he fell in love with all those years ago. She didn't want the person he was before. She didn't want black roses or tearful professions of love. If he wanted Violet back, he'd need to win over this _new_ Violet, this Violet that would fuck someone twice her age and would push her parents through a second story window for the hell of it. To win over this Violet he'd need to get just as dark as she was.

And he was already there. All he had to do was be himself. He'd denied the voices in his head and his natural inclination for manipulation and destruction for far too long.

It was time to let them out to play.

That thought, combined with Hayden's expert and eager lips pulling at his cock, pushed him over the edge. He came violently, his hips rocking forward from the tub. Hayden barely even gagged before swallowing his cum and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

His eyes flicked toward the mirror. Violet was gone.

"Feeling better?" Hayden asked coquettishly, biting one of her swollen, cherry red lips.

He smirked. "You have no idea."

* * *

><p>He was lounging on the couch a few days later when Violet and Travis stumbled into the living room. He doubted it was an accident, he knew that Violet had spotted him slinking into the room an hour before.<p>

She pulled her lips away from his mother's fucktoy to glare at him. "Do you mind? It's rude to stare."

He shrugged. "I was here first," he said, giving her a mean smile. "If you don't want anyone to watch, perhaps you should try to find an unoccupied room to fuck in."

A ripple of doubt clouded her face. Clearly, this was not the reaction she had been going for. "Hell, it'll be better with an audience anyway," she said, tugging on Travis's belt.

"You're right, it definitely will," he said, smirking at her. "Enjoy the show the other day?"

Travis's head had been snapping back and forth between the two of them as if he was watching a tennis match. "What show?" he asked dumbly. He pulled away from Violet slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the direction his afternoon booty call had taken.

"Violet watched me get a blow-job from Hayden in the bathroom," Tate explained, sliding off the couch and striding toward them. "She's pissed."

Violet snorted. "I don't give a fuck what you do," she said, but the venom in her voice was more than enough proof that she did. "Fuck whoever you want. I don't care."

"I'd rather be fucking you," he said silkily, stepping behind Travis. "And I hate that you're fucking this guy," he said, reaching his hands up to cleanly snap Travis's neck. He dropped to the floor, his eyes rolled into the back his head.

"FUCK!" Violet exclaimed. She glared at Tate. "You're _such_ an asshole. And it doesn't matter, as soon as he wakes up I'm still going to ride his dick like it's the merry-go-round at an amusement park."

He laughed at her. "Go right ahead. I could care less."

It only lasted a moment, but pain and hurt flashed across her eyes. She reared back and spit in his face. "Fuck you," she said, eyes filling with unshed tears.

"Don't get the wrong idea," he said, reaching his hand out to cup her chin. She jerked her head away but he persisted, stroking her cheek with his hand. He knew she didn't want to like it, but her eyes fluttered closed for a moment before opening to glare at him again. "I love you. I'll always love you. And if you came back to me, I'd take you back in a second. But until you accept my apology and admit that you're ready to move on from all the bullshit that's happened and acknowledge that you still love me, I'll have to stick with fucking your father's whore." He tilted his head to the side and looked up at the ceiling, the source of the living girls giggling in their room above them. "Or anyone else I can find, for that matter," he said, grinning. "So if you want me to stop, just say that you love me. Say that your miss me. Say that you want me, and I'll be yours again."

She narrowed her eyes at him and slapped his hand away. "Go ahead and be that way," she said furiously. "But just so you know, if you make me play your stupid fucking games, you won't win." She turned and sprinted from the room.

"We'll see," he said softly. He stepped over Travis's lifeless body and left to find something else to distract him.

* * *

><p>Violet spent the next few days invisible, but Tate hadn't been stalking her for the last ten years for nothing. He could sense when she was near, could smell her cigarette burning and hear her sighs of indignation when she entered a room to find him there. He waited until he knew she was watching before making his next move.<p>

Moira had just finished her morning session of attempting to seduce the man of the house and had wandered into the kitchen, still all dolled up in her sex kitten personality. Tate was sitting at the kitchen island and Violet was lurking invisibly in the corner. Moira flounced over to him and took the water glass from his hands, taking a swig before emptying the contents into the sink.

He grinned. "He didn't go for it, huh?"

Moira sighed. "No, and it's really starting to piss me off," she said, rolling her head to the side. "It's been months. Ben jerked off _minutes_ after he met me_._"

Tate got out of his chair and walked behind Moira, placing his hands on her shoulders and rubbing gently. He and Moira had always gotten along well, even if he had usually dealt with her older half. In fact, she had rarely let him see her young side at all. Her occasional trysts with Travis and Ben must no longer be satisfying her. Either that, or rejection from the only living male resident of the Murder House had wounded her ego enough to make her desperate.

He squeezed her shoulders, letting his fingers drift further down her uniform and rest on her collarbone near the swell of her breasts. "I could give you what you need," he murmured, leaning forward and breathing against her ear. From across the room he could smell a fresh wave of acrid smoke and the corners of his mouth twitched.

Moira turned around slowly. Her eyes were half lidded, dark with lust. "I suppose that could work," she said. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his, nipping at his bottom lip. He smiled into the kiss, letting his tongue explore her mouth as his hands worked between them to unbutton her uniform.

She smiled at him seductively, letting the dress fall from her shoulders. He rutted up against her and she reached down to trail her fingers over the outline of his cock, unleashing a growl deep in his throat. He lifted her up, setting her ass on the kitchen island, and hastily wiggled out of his jeans. He didn't bother to pull her panties off, just pushed them to the side and thrust into her with a low moan.

"_Jesus,"_ she hissed, arching her back.

"No, I'm not, but if you ask nicely I'll make you see God," he said, smiling as the cocky line tumbled from his lips. It felt _good_ to be himself again, to be mean and arrogant. It felt even better than having his dick buried in the maid's cunt and watching her moan and writhe beneath him. He could tell by the up tick of Violet's breathing that she was seething in the corner of the room, and her jealousy was almost enough to make him cum then and there.

He grinned and reached his hand between them to gently massage Moira's clit. "Cum for me," he urged her, his eyes flickering to the direction of the smoke and sighs.

As it turned out, he was looking in the wrong place. Violet appeared on the countertop behind Moira, quickly running a knife across Moira's throat. The redhead's neck split into a gory smile, blood pouring down her front while her eyes rolled back in her head.

Tate kept thrusting, Moira's blood mixing with his sweat and dripping down his legs. "Couldn't have even waited until I came?" he panted, pushing Moira's lifeless torso back onto the marble.

Violet's eyes glinted with malice. "Nope," she smirked.

He pulled out and wrapped his fingers around his dick, letting Moira drop to the floor. "You're jealous," he said, squeezing his cock and then pulling it in long, even strokes. "I've never seen this side of you before."

She shrugged and hopped off the counter. "What can I say, you bring the out the monster in me," she said, letting her fingertips trail over the head of his dick. His breathing hitched and she gave him a wide, mean smile. "Just because I'm not ready to go back to fucking you yet doesn't mean I want you fucking anyone else."

He reeled inside at her words, knowing what she just unconsciously admitted. Yet. Was there a more beautiful word in English language? At that moment, Tate didn't think there was. He loved it and everything it implied.

He smiled back at her and kept tugging at his cock, her fingers ghosting over the head. "I'll be yours in a heartbeat, Vi. All you have to do is ask. But until then..." he nodded to Moira's blood covered corpse.

"Fine," she said, leaning in toward him. "But just so you know, the next move is mine. And I can play -" she wrapped her fingers around his dick, stroking it gently - "just as dirty as you."

And then she was gone.

He grinned and started working his cock faster, concentrating on the feel of Violet's fingertips, wet with Moira's blood, pulling and squeezing and stroking his dick. He clutched the countertop and came, cum skating across the cold marble.

He pulled his pants up and tiptoed around Moira's body and the puddle of blood on the floor. He'd have to remember to apologize later when she was cleaning up the mess.

* * *

><p>Tate was smart, but Violet had always been smarter. She didn't wait for Tate to watch her or bother orchestrating some complicated sexual setup.<p>

Instead, she called him to her. Just a whisper, but it was enough to make him vanish from the attic floor and materialize by her side. She was already riding Hugo's dick when he got there.

White hot rage burst through his chest but he swallowed it, burying it deep in the recesses of his soul. She was trying to get to him. That was a _good_ sign. It meant that his efforts were working.

He flopped on the bed next to his father. "Hey, dad," he said, staring resolutely up at Violet.

"Who the fuck is this?" Hugo asked, eyes wide.

"Just someone who likes to watch," Violet cooed. Hugo started to protest but Violet leaned forward and covered his mouth with her hand. "You talk too fucking much," she breathed. He moved to pull her hand away but she ground down on his dick harder, making his arms go slack and his eyes roll back into his head.

She turned to Tate. "Enjoying your little game? Having fun yet?" she asked. She took her other hand and ran it up her side, pulling at her nipple.

"Hardly," Tate grumbled. "Actually..." and he pulled out his Swiss Army knife and brought it down on his father's face, stabbing him right between the eyes. Blood sprayed from the wound and coated Violet as Hugo twitched below her. "There. _Now_ I'm having fun."

Violet heaved herself off of Hugo. "Shithead," she said, kicking Tate as she fell on the bed between father and son. She ran two fingers through the blood on her chest and let her hand drift down to her cunt, swirling over her clit.

"Hey, turn about is fair play," he said, propping himself up on one arm to watch her finger herself. "There's a better solution to this, you know."

"What's that?" she asked breathlessly, pushing her fingers inside.

"We quit fucking and killing other people and just start fucking each other."

She barked out a laugh and thrust her hips up against her hand. "Fuck you."

"You need a better line," he said, reaching his hand down and sliding a third finger over her two. "Come on. You know you want to. Why else would you bother fucking Hugo? I've heard Hayden say enough that he's not a very good lay. You're doing it to try and get to me."

She moaned and used her other hand to press his wrist against her clit. "I want to hurt you," she said haltingly, rocking her hips furiously against their fingers. "It's fun, hurting you."

"I'm sure it is," he murmured. "Listen, we don't have to be like we were before. We're different now, I get that. It's not going to be all lovey-dovey bullshit. We'll be more like Sid and Nancy than Romeo and Juliet."

His words had a visible effect on her, making her face light up in the closest thing he's seen to a genuine smile from her in a long time. Abruptly he pulled his hand away from her cunt, bringing her hand with him.

"What the fuck," she whined, kicking at his thigh weakly with a still-shaking foot.

"Were you close?"

"Yeah, I was fucking close. I was _there."_

_"_Good," Tate said. He climbed off the bed and knelt on the floor, burying his head between her thighs. "When you cum, I want you to know that _I'm _the one that made you do it." And before she could protest, he dipped his tongue between her folds to fuck her with his mouth.

He'd never felt a girl cum on his tongue before. He could feel her clench, taste her as she gushed over her lips. He gave her clit one last upward swipe and her leg jerked so hard that her knee made contact with his temple.

He sat up and smirked at her. "Ready to take me back yet?"

She sprawled on the bed, boneless, below him. "No," she said, but he could hear the waver in her voice.

"Fine," he conceded. "Just remember, the next move? Is _mine." _And with that, he pulled his knife from his father's face and went to find a quiet corner of the house to jerk off.

* * *

><p>Time marched forward. The game continued, sinking them both to lower depths of depravity.<p>

He spent an entire day plying Nora with gin and careful flattery, teasing her with old-fashioned jokes and gentle fingertips that worked over her shoulders and thighs. He didn't particularly _want_ to fuck Nora, and he didn't get nearly the same enjoyment out of it as he had gotten from Hayden's enthusiastic blow job or the feel of Violet's or Moira's cunt, but sex was still sex and he knew it would piss Violet off. He had Nora folded over a table in the basement while he thrust into her from behind and tried to ignore the exposed brain sloshing around in the back of her cranium when Violet materialized in front of him, reaching her hand through the hole in Nora's skull to give her a reverse lobotomy.

"She's not dead," Tate said, still fucking her.

"Are you sure?" Violet asked in mock concern, squeezing Nora's brain in her fist. "I'm pretty sure having someone play with your brain like it's play-doh is enough to kill you."

"Oh, I'm sure," Tate said, giving an over-exaggerated thrust for emphasis. "Trust me, I'd feel it if she died."

"Would you stop?" Violet asked, her eyes betraying her genuine interest. "Are you willing to add necrophilia to your fully manifested Oedipal complex?"

"Technically, any of us fucking _anyone_ is necrophilia," he said. He could feel his orgasm starting to coil in his stomach as Nora's synapses misfired and made her twitch around him.

"That's true," Violet allowed. "I'm just curious to see how fucked up you really are."

Tate spilled into Nora, finishing with a series of uneven thrusts and a guttural groan. He pulled out and pulled up his jeans and boxers from where they were wound around his ankles.

"I'm pretty fucked up," he admitted. "But I think that's what you like about me."

She shook her head and laughed. "I don't like anything about you, Tate."

He smirked and let his hand spring forward, like a snake, to wedge between her thighs and roll languidly over the crotch of her underwear.

"I think you do," Tate said in a sing-song voice. "Better find a new pair of panties. These are soaked through."

He turned to leave, heading upstairs, but he paused at the bottom step.

"By the way, it's your move."

He grinned at her and left her in a puddle of sexual frustration next to Nora's lifeless body.

* * *

><p>He waited for Violet to take her turn, but things were quiet for the next few weeks. Their game of chicken had left them with too few options. On Violet's part, the only male ghosts left were the exterminator, the gays, Charles, and her would-be murderer. Tate knew that she didn't find any of them particularly appealing and he could only surmise that she was trying to work up the courage to fuck one of them. It made Tate nervous to think about what would happen when she did, because he, like her, found himself at the bottom of the barrel of possible sexual partners. The nurses were too fucking out of it to be a viable sexual option, the chick that had tried to murder Violet still held a grudge against Tate for killing her, and every time he looked at the Dahlia he couldn't see beyond her Chelsea grin. That left Vivien. Considering what had got him into this mess in the first place she was off the table for a long list of reasons, not to mention the fact that she hadn't gone with ten feet of him, much less his dick, since she died.<p>

He was getting frustrated. He had really felt like he was making progress and now he had hit a wall. He had finally gotten pissed enough to work up the willpower to keep the younger of the nurses from showing off her battle wounds long enough to try and fuck her when the married couple left for the weekend, leaving their daughters alone to throw a massive party in the Murder House.

Violet was already envious of the girls for several reasons (their age and their freedom, among them) but Tate had seen her cast a dark look at the pair as Tate had ogled them as they pranced around in their tiny pink bathing suits. It wasn't so much that Tate found them attractive - he didn't - but that he was a boy and they were very well developed girls and certain things were more reliable then Pavlov ringing a bell. So once the parents had departed and the girls were on their phones calling their friends and ordering a keg, Tate decided that he was going to end the little game, once and for all. Fucking the dead was one thing, they could easily slit the throat of the other's sexual partner to end the tryst. Fucking the living was quite another. Nobody wanted more permanent residents, and Tate was positive that Violet wouldn't want some pretty young sorority bitch prancing around the house competing for Travis, Hugo or Tate's attention, so he decided to swallow his distaste for the blonds and lure one of them into bed at their party. He was positive that it would be enough to push Violet over the edge.

He blended in seamlessly with the crowd. Luckily for him, t-shirts and jeans never really went out of style. He found the elder daughter, the twenty-year old, slumped over on the couch, eyes glazed as she stared at the party raging around her.

"Hey," he said, sliding next to her. "Great party."

"Thanks," she slurred. "Do you go to my school?"

"Friend of your sisters," he said casually. Her brow smoothed, accepting his explanation. "My name's Lindsey," she said, reaching out a hand to shake his.

"Tate," he said, taking her hand and inwardly wincing at the feel of her sweaty, warm flesh. He focused instead on her tits spilling out of her too small tank-top.

"So this is your house, huh?" he said, feigning interest as he looked around. "I've heard about this place."

She hiccuped. "What have you heard?"

He leaned over and whispered in her ear playfully. "That it's _haunted," _he said. She shuddered at his breath on her neck and he reached up to push her hair behind her ear.

"Really?" she asked bashfully, gazing at him. He grinned. He had her. All he had to do was take her.

"Definitely," he said seriously. "I heard that some kid _died _upstairs in one of the bedrooms."

"There's a lot of bedrooms," she said, eyes wide. "It could be any one of them." She grinned and slid off the couch, unsteady on her feet. "Want to come see if we can figure it out?"

He had her naked before they even made it all the way upstairs. Once they got into the hallway, he pushed aside her parents' tacky vases and plopped her down on a side table, filling her cunt with a brutal thrust. She groaned and rocked into him, her legs lacing behind his back.

He decided to take a page out of Violet's book and called for her. Lindsey was moaning and groaning too much to even notice. "Violet," he said softly.

She didn't appear.

"Violet," he said more urgently. Nothing.

He scowled and picked Lindsey up, knotting his hands under her ass. If Violet wasn't going to come to him, he'd just have to go to Violet. He staggered with Lindsey down the hall, a task made more difficult by the fact that she was still grinding against him, and stumbled into the bedroom that had once been his.

Violet's head snapped up at him. She was naked and kneeling on the bed, her knees on either side of the other daughter's face, her hands gripping the wrought iron baseboard.

_"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck," _Tate groaned, because even if she's fucking someone else he's still a boy and seeing two girls together is doing things to his body that he can't control.

"I'm close," Violet breathed, staring at him.

"What the..." Lindsey started, but Tate spun her around so that her back was to Violet and her sister and set her ass down on a desk. "Shhhh," he said, holding up a finger to her lips. He used her other hand to circle over her clit and she rocked against him, the phantom voice in the room forgotten.

He fucked her hard, not wanting to make it last, but needing his release as badly as Violet needed hers. He kept watching them as Violet's eyes devoured him hungrily at the way he'd roll his abdomen to assist each deep thrust of his hips. Violet moaned and licked her lips as she rocked over the girl's mouth. When she came she shuddered and gave a whimper that was like a lightening bolt to his cock. His dick twitched and he spilled inside Lindsey, saying Violet's name with a choking breath.

He pulled out and gazed over at her as she gingerly climbed off the girl's face. Their eyes met and they grinned, disappearing and reappearing alone in the master bathroom.

"Great minds think alike," Violet said, walking behind Tate to lock the door.

"I guess they do," he said, taking sight of her naked body. She caught him staring and smirked at him. "Are you going to eye fuck me all night, or are you going to _actually_ fuck me?"

His breath caught in his throat. "What?" he said warily, unwilling to give in if this was one of her little tricks.

"You heard me," she said, walking up to him. "I'm over this game. I thought I could win, but I think it's a draw." She shrugged. "Turns out that even though I'm just as fucked up as you are, I can't compete in the 'unstable fucking monster' department."

He reached out to her, running his hands over her arms. "So are we back together again?"

She laughed. "I don't know. Kind of, I guess... in the sense that the only person I'm going to fuck is you, and the only person I'm going to let you fuck is me. But don't expect me to cuddle or play scrabble."

"I'll take what I can get," he said honestly.

"Okay," she said softly, giving him a true, vulnerable smile. "I have missed you," she admitted.

"Me too."

She pressed her body into him and leaned up to kiss him, her tongue sweeping along his bottom lip. He sighed into her open mouth as she pulled away.

"Who did you say we'd be like?" she asked, running her fingers up his back. "Sid and Nancy?"

"Yeah," he breathed, reaching to pull her closer.

Her mouth split into a grin, wide, crazed. "You're really going to regret making that comparison."

Before he could process what she'd said, she pulled a heavy nail file from the counter and plunged it into Tate's chest.

"Sid stabbed Nancy," she cooed, twisting the file as blood poured from the wound.

He was woozy from the blood loss and his legs were giving out below him but he found the strength to grab her, pulling her down with him as he fell. Her head cracked against the porcelain of the sink and blood oozed from her scalp as her eyes went dull. She collapsed against him and he sighed, a death rattle, just before everything went black.

* * *

><p>He woke up to find her already bouncing on his dick.<p>

"Rigor mortis," she explained. He grinned and lifted his head from the floor. The tile, the sink, the tub - everything was coated in a layer of blood, including the both of them. He was lying in a puddle of it, he could feel it sliding against him as Violet rocked them both over the floor.

Her hair, looking redder than the maid's, was matted against her head. He sat up and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to his chest and licking a stripe clean up her neck and over her chin. She shivered and threaded her hands through his hair, slapping her hips against his.

"Harder," she whimpered. "Come on. _Fuck_ me."

He smirked and flipped her over onto her back, watching blood ooze out from underneath her. He thrust into her, brutal, animal. This wasn't making love, this was fucking. There was nothing sweet or gentle about it - it was angry and wild and crazy and everything that they had become.

He leaned over her and grabbed her chin, forcing her eyes on his. "That pussy is mine," he growled, snapping his hips against hers.

She nodded and wrapped her arm around his lower back, pressing him even closer into her. He leaned forward to nibble on her earlobe and jawline. "Say it," he whispered in between sucking marks into her neck. "Say that your cunt belongs to me."

"It's yours," she whimpered, her thighs shaking beside him. "My cunt belongs to you."

He started pumping faster, nearly over the edge. She rocked her hips back and forth furiously to meet him. "And you're _mine,"_ she said, digging her nails into his back and adding to the already impressive amount of blood on his body.

"For fucking ever," he choked out, finally cumming as he felt her clench and twitch around him.

He stayed buried inside of her, nuzzling into her neck. "What do we do now?" he murmured, nuzzling his face into the underside of his chin.

"I'm sure we'll figure it out," she said, pressing a kiss into his temple. She pulled herself from under him and stood up and surveyed the damage. "Moira's gonna be pissed," she said, smirking.

"No shit," he breathed, sitting up. "I can't really find it in me to give a fuck, though."

"Me neither," she said, her eyes twinkling. They gazed at each other, smiling happily, before Tate bent over the sink and turned the water on to start cleaning himself up.

"Oh, Tate?" Violet said sweetly.

He turned around to face her and she brought a razor up, quickly, right across his throat. He gasped and sputtered and fell to the floor.

"Your move," she whispered in his ear, twirling her fingers through the blood on his chest. "Come find me when you wake up." She shoved her tongue past his lips and then vanished.

He woke up a few minutes later. "Crazy bitch," he muttered, smiling. He hopped in the shower to rinse the gore and sweat and smell of sex from his body. Once he was clean, he grabbed the nail file from the floor before disappearing, off to go find the Sid to his Nancy.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Please don't hate me. I'll write some fluff again soon, I'm sure.


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